All That Mattered
by Rivaille D'Anzelotte
Summary: More than ten years ago, he was called by a different name. Strike Commander, Overwatch's Golden Boy, he was Jack Morrison. But now, he is Soldier 76, and in this moment of peace he'll savor whatever he can get before the next fight. A certain someone, along with some certain memories, however, just can't leave the shadow of a man he was once before. Mercy76. Rated T for cursing.


Lol I only played Overwatch for the first time two days prior of writing this, but I do plan to play it again; 76's voice and physique makes me hot and bothered and I adore the fuck out of the Mercy 76 ship. I'm actually procrastinating right now because goddamn I hate my thesis.

For some reason, FF doesn't recognized Dva's official spelling so I had to resort to D Va. Hopefully it isn't much of an eyesore.

Enjoy!

* * *

It has been three years since the Recall.

Three years struggling to uphold the peace as a team, and around a decade's worth of battles for the not-so-young soldier.

At first, he thought it was ridiculous that Overwatch could still rebuild, even after all the backstabbing and tragedy. In his eyes, nobody cared enough for peace; they disguise their true intentions through peace talks and treaties. Behind those perfectly clasped handshakes between diverse people lie the fat stacks of money and fake promises leading to the deaths of millions of lives. It is ironic how he himself was also part of the facade.

But here he is, uncomfortable, uninjured, and _seemingly_ _alive_ after three years in the large mess hall containing the heroes of Overwatch, celebrating a good deal after taking down Talon's key members. Because of their large scale battles, wars have briefly stopped and lives have been temporarily saved. The U.N, however, has finally noticed their unofficial recall; it won't be long until they've stepped in to show them who's the actual boss around here.

And yet, Soldier 76 couldn't help but smile beneath his mask. He watched the young women, D Va and Tracer, run around the hall with streamers and showered the onlookers (and the food, unfortunately) with confetti. Music blared with Lucio upfront and center, mostly jamming to his tunes with glow sticks between his fingers. Beside him was Bastion seemingly trying to jam along, with the way he was holding rod-sized glow sticks with Ganymede as usual, protectively sitting on top.

The tables were laden with food and an assortment of drinks, and in one particular was Roadhog and Junkrat, having their own competition on who could eat the most in one sitting. Mei and Zarya sat there with them, cheering as well as drinking to their heart's content. Reinhardt, with his booming voice and hulking body, would go from table to table, offering a tankard (or a barrel, Soldier noted) of beer to anyone with empty hands. So far, Torbjörn was his latest victim, said Swedish dwarf lay sprawled under a table, hiccuping and seeing stars. Winston had half a mind to finish his tenth peanut butter jar before the German giant would target him next.

In his drunken stupor, Jesse McCree came over to Hanzo and Genji's table, and without another word, dragged the older Shimada to the dance floor. Roaring laughter and intense cheering sent the duo swaying in a way similar to forcing a child to take his medicine, as Hanzo desperately tried to pry off the drunk cowboy. Amidst the 'dance', as Soldier would note, he could hear the slew of intense Japanese curses sent to both the drunken partner and his cyborg brother, who was laughing so much he was already on all fours.

Soldier 76 grinned, as he couldn't believe this was even happening during a time of war. Tomorrow, the U.N. would be right over their doorstep, and not even Winston nor Athena could stop that from happening. They would either be forced to disband, yet again, or demand that they want in in whatever they're planning to do next. Either way, it all smells like bad money and dirty corruption. He sighed at the worst possible thoughts forming in his mind.

Back then, he would've taken the brunt of it all, as he was Overwatch's golden boy. He would've done something to protect his family, but only Strike Commander Jack Morrison would've done that, truly without hesitation. Not Soldier 76, the aging old man who had nothing else but his skills and his masked visor.

Jack Morrison would've stopped this war a decade ago. D Va and Lucio wouldn't need to fight. He would never have left his best friend to die, nor would he have let Talon get their hands on his friend's wife and end their happy marriage. Most importantly, Jack Morrison would never have left—

 _"Jack?"_

The soldier quickly snapped his head to the source, surprised that he didn't sense anyone approach him. He found an arm, presently touching his shoulder, and his gaze met the friendly, baby blue eyes of Mercy, rather, Dr. Angela Ziegler. "What did you call me?" He suddenly blurted out, defiantly distrusting his hearing.

Angel— Mercy arched a brow, "76? I apologize, without a name I had to refer to your number." She said as the soldier relaxed somewhat. He couldn't tell whether he was happy or disappointed at the outcome.

 _Idiot. No one, except Ana, could know you're alive. Not even..._ "76, are you feeling alright?" Her voice brought him back from his thoughts, and he had to reply lest he'd sow suspicion. "Yeah. Just didn't notice you coming." He gruffly said, idly playing with a confetti popper on the table to ease the sudden nervousness. Angela chuckled softly as she sat beside him, a half-empty glass of wine in her hands.

"Well," She took a sip of her wine; Soldier noted the peach tint lip gloss she's wearing. "You should have had me in your sights then." With her pink tinged face, she smiled at the man next to her, who involuntarily flinched. Jesus christ; for once, this mask is helping him from showing his blushing red face. Soldier turned away as he awkwardly coughed to ease the growing tension.

 _She actually got me there._ "I didn't see you that much around. Did you just come back from the lab?" He said, hoping to change the topic. The blonde nodded at him as she crossed her legs, unaware of Soldier's heated gaze.

"Yes, I've finished a few plans for the Caduceus, amplify healing, speed up the process, the works." She proudly, yet tiredly said. He saw the bags under her eyes, cleverly camouflaged by makeup, but her words betrayed any notion of exhaustion. "I dropped them off at Torbjorn's workshop before heading out here. I almost forgot that we're celebrating today." Both of them shared a chuckle; celebrations really are such a rarity these days. The last time they had such a full-blown party was...Christmas? Soldier couldn't remember that much. Age really must be getting to him.

The two sat in silence, contemplating and watching the rest of the party. By now, Hanzo has successfully rid himself of Jesse, who unfortunately sported what looked like a faint black eye. He heard Angela stifle a laugh at the sight of it. "He'll wake up with one of his worst hang-overs, that, and a black eye." She mused as they watched him stumble to Pharah and Ana's table. They couldn't hear what they were saying, but Ana was surprisingly able to get Jesse to sit beside her blushing daughter.

This made Soldier raise a brow, "Isn't he a little too old for her?" He huffed as Angela looked at him incredulously. "And you are, what, twenty or so years older than me?" Her flirty remark caused Soldier to flinch at her again. Unfortunately for him, the doctor didn't stop there.

"Even I find you attractive, Soldier 76." Her remark was slurred but she looked happy. Soldier's mouth could only gape at her. _There's no way—_

 _It's the wine. It's gotta be the wine. Calm down, soldier. You're wearing your mask, nobody but Ana knows—_ "I-I...uh, thanks, Mercy." He honestly doesn't know what to say. _You know what, fuck it._ He shouldn't say anything at all. No matter how drunk Angela is, he shouldn't even be associating with her.

Because Angela should only be this comfortable with Jack Morrison, not Soldier 76.

She opened her mouth to say something else, but was interrupted by Lucio taking over the mic. "Hey, you guys. It's like, what, 1 am? Anyways, I'm putting on a slow one if any one of you potential lovebirds wanna try getting it on before you turn in the night." The Brazilian kid chuckled at his own joke. "Except maybe for you Hanzo, figured you'd be tired after all that love." He laughed as he narrowly dodged what looked like an arrow punctured through a paper cup.

As the first few notes sang, the mess hall's lights dimmed, courtesy by Athena, and suddenly partners swamped the dance floor. First to get there was Reinhardt and Ana, the giant looked so gentle holding up his meat of a hand for the ace sniper's. Hana managed to drag Jamison away from Mako, the latter smirking as he had won their little food fight. There was Mei and Aleksandra, the Russian had kindly accepted her stuttered out invitation while the other couldn't stop smiling.

Jesse and Fareeha stood up, the now surprisingly sober cowboy held out his arm for her as she bashfully took it. Angela sighed as she watched the two enjoy the night. Soldier let his gaze fall on the blonde and couldn't help but sigh as well. God, the dimmed lighting accidentally gave her this angelic glow _and she just looks so fucking beautiful_ , that made him want ask her for a dance as well. The mood's too damn perfect to pass this up. He better ask her now before Lena or Genji come over or—

 _Stop it. Who are you to ask the girl of Jack Morrison?_ He exhaled as he slowly lowered his extended arm, nearly touching the blonde angel. _That's right. Jack Morrison died ten years ago. You can't just possibly waltz back into her life, dumbass._ He numbly thought as he just watched Angela gaze at the dancing couples with obvious longing. He was content just watching her, even from afar, a luxury Soldier 76 was allowed to have.

The blonde had already finished her glass and, after settling it on the table, stood up and turned to him. "Well, Soldier 76?" She almost giggled at what would appear his jaw dropping behind the mask. "May I have this dance with you?" She held out her hand, and before Soldier could even react, he found himself clutching onto that outstretched hand, dumbly following after her.

The warning bells were even louder this time. _WHAT ARE YOU DOING GET AWAY FROM HER HOW DARE YOU—_ "Soldier?" He blinked as Angela draped one hand on his shoulder while she snugly gripped his other one. She was waiting for him to hold her waist, and he just stood there like a dumbfuck. "We don't have to if you don't want to..." Came her worried voice and suddenly his free hand gingerly rested on the familiar curve of her waist.

"N-no, I..." His head was hurting from all the constant screaming. Telling him to go away, begging him to remember what he came to do.

But Angela's face loomed into view, and for the first time in a while, he felt...peaceful. She swayed slightly to her right and he followed, clumsily so. So what if he couldn't dance? He wasn't about to embarrass the team medic all by herself. His mind flashed back years ago, when Overwatch had official parties for companies that would bring out their gold plated cards and kiss-ass attitudes. He would be called upon for gracing the event with his humiliating dances, one that would have Gabriel and Ana to cackle behind his back for days.

When she came to his life, however, he looked forward to those events. He would nervously pick out his best suit before running towards the nearest barbers for a last-minute haircut. He would nag Gabriel for giving him sex advice, beg Ana to keep him away from them for the night, and almost simultaneously, get starstruck the moment Angela smiled at him.

Yesterday and a few hours ago, he was the soldier everyone was weary to accept, but eventually trusted. Later on in the morning, the U.N. will break down their defenses regardless of Winston's protests. In the nearest future, he would still need to don the vigilante mask for revenge against the family he could've maintained ten years ago.

Tonight, however, he was Jack, and in Angela's arms that was all that ever mattered.

* * *

Oooh. For once I actually liked what I wrote. Feel free to give a review. It's been such a long time since I wrote 'creatively'. I figured this would be a good exercise too, and the lack of Mercy76 fics hurts me physically than my mental regard for my thesis.

Cheers!


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